Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“I get my share of that, too,” he says. “And I agree. It’s always better to know where you stand.” He stares at me then. Really stares, as if he’s starving and I’m the special of the day.
I look down at my feet and then catch myself. Yeah, I was a klutz a minute ago, and he saw my condom. So what? It happens. At least that’s what I want to think. I’m actually still kind of mortified, but I look back up and meet his gaze.
“I guess you know where you stand with Addie,” I say. “Pretty much everyone does.”
His lips bend ever so slightly upward. I suppress a shiver. The subtle smile is a flash of light in his ominous demeanor. It’s suddenly chilly in the heated room.
“I couldn’t help myself,” he says. “She hates coffee.”
I smile, forgetting for a second that this man just saw me pick up a condom. “I know. She threw out the latte after the shoot. Perfectly good and hot. I’d have happily drunk it.”
“You’re a coffee drinker, then?”
I nod. “Absolutely.”
“Me too.” He stares at me again, seeming to zero in on my mouth. “Care to go for a cup…”
This time I can’t stop my eyes. They widen. Is Braden Black asking me out?
He looks toward my desk where my nameplate sits. “…Skye?”
Say something, Skye. For God’s sake!
“It’s almost six.”
“Dinner, then?”
Every nerve in my body jumps. I mean really jumps.
Braden Black, the most eligible bachelor in Boston—hell, in the country—just asked me to dinner.
I look down at my wrinkled silk blouse and skinny jeans. I worked a ten-hour day, and exhaustion weighs on me. My mousy brown hair is falling out of its ponytail, and God himself only knows what my face looks like.
And Addison? What will Addison think? I eye her closed door.
“You don’t need her permission,” Braden says. His dangerous demeanor has returned.
My legs weaken and my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “I wasn’t—”
“Sure you were. Your boss doesn’t particularly like me, so you were wondering if going to dinner with me would somehow cost you your job.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“Are you good at your job, Skye?”
Yeah, embarrassment again. “Well, I—”
“Let’s attack this from a different angle. How long have you been working for Addison?”
“Almost a year.”
“Then clearly you’re good at your job, or she would have gotten rid of you long ago. Addison might be a pain in the ass, but she’s smart. She won’t let a good thing go.” One corner of his mouth twitches slightly, as if he wants to smile but can’t. Then, as if some type of magic pulls at him, he lets the smile out.
And I nearly melt into a puddle of goo right on the slick marble floor. His dimples show through several days of black stubble, and one of his eyes squints slightly. An adorable imperfection on an otherwise perfect visage.
“I’m not dressed appropriately,” I say, forcing myself to meet his blue gaze.
“I didn’t say we were going to a black-tie affair.”
Gulp. What a boob I am. This isn’t a date. It’s probably a business thing. He wants information, or maybe even dirt, on Addison. They have some kind of history. Makes sense. Addison is way more his type than I can ever hope to be.
“I don’t think—”
He interrupts me. “You look fine. It’s dinnertime, and I’m hungry. I don’t feel like eating alone for once. Don’t make more of this than it is. Your job will be safe.”
So definitely not a date. Of course it isn’t. Braden Black can have any woman he wants. He certainly doesn’t want a Kansas farm girl.
I open my mouth to decline when my stomach lets out a famished growl.
“You’re obviously hungry,” he says. “Let’s go.”
Without thinking, I walk toward the door of the office. “Okay. Where are we going?”
Apparently I’ve made my decision.
“I feel like oysters,” he says.
I love oysters. I love all seafood. Actually, I love all food. “Sounds good,” I say as he opens the door for me. “Wait,” I add.
“What?”
“I don’t even know you. I… I’ll meet you there. What restaurant are you thinking?”
“Union Oyster House. You want me to get you a cab?”
Kismet. Union Oyster House is one of my favorites. This seems right. Or do I just want it to seem right? “Sure. I guess.”
“Or you can drive with me. It’s not far, and I personally guarantee your safety.”
Am I being silly? Not really, but something inside me wants to trust him. He’s Braden Black. Everyone knows him. Plus, I have my phone and it’s fully charged.
I turn to him. “As long as you personally guarantee my safety.”
“Absolutely.”
I follow him to a black Mercedes parked in front of the hotel. A driver emerges and opens the door. The back seat is lush with cream-colored leather interior. Braden gets in next to me.